


The Ribbon

by Lily_Vipers



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-12-23 12:43:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11990031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lily_Vipers/pseuds/Lily_Vipers
Summary: ”All what I gathered from my visions is you, that boy out there and Grindelwald battling somewhere. He mentioned something about going back to Godric’s Hollow and that night. My visions always end the same: the British man crying, you on the ground bleeding, and Grindelwald laughing.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title: The Ribbon  
> Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them  
> Summary: ”All what I gathered from my visions is you, that boy out there and Grindelwald battling somewhere. He mentioned something about going back to Godric’s Hollow and that night. My visions always end the same: the British man crying, you on the ground bleeding, and Grindelwald laughing.”  
> Pairings: Original Percival Graves/Newt Scamander  
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
> Notes: Inspired by Your Name, Time Traveler’s Wife, GOT and Steins;Gate. 
> 
> This story is weird. Just go along with it. 
> 
> I’m sorry in advance for any plot holes and for how long it will take me to update. Real life is a bitch.

Percival Graves came from a family of three: his mother, himself, and his sister, Edith. His mother, Bertha, was a socialite back in her day when her heart was still full and light. She captured Percival’s father’s heart one summer evening in ‘94 at one of the many parties her parents hosted. Her light steps and beautiful navy blue gown sealed the deal when he came in stumbling, his first time crashing a party. Their eyes caught one another and the universe stopped.

Edward was an up and coming auror in training at MACUSA and the last of his line. He was scrapping for food, while Bertha had new clothes to wear every other week. However, Edward had the Graves name and a charming smile.

Bertha married him against her parents wishes December of that year. A name was nothing if he had no means to provide for her, an unusual sentiment in the current era, his name and bloodline did not elevate his status in their eyes. Bertha didn’t care. Edward was sweet, kind, and passionate. He excelled in his courses and graduated at the top of his class. He was the first from his class chosen to lead a mission and he was one of the few the president honored at the annual MACUSA ball. They had Percival the year following their marriage and Edith two years later.

Edward died saving a group of no-maj children captured by a crazed wizard wanting to cut their flesh open and bleed them dry. Percival was seven, Edith five, and Bertha’s heart was never full again.

The years following his father’s death was a blur -- a mixture of tears, black clothing, and drawn curtains. Bertha refused to let her children play outside when they still lived in the city for the fear of losing them as she did with her husband. Edith became rebellious from the confinement of her sex. She pushed the rules of society to its breaking point: wearing pants instead of dresses, offering undeterred opinions in the company of men, and daring to suggest that she would obtain a proper education at Lady Margaret Hall, a noted female institution in England. She shunned magic and even moved away from America when she was old enough, seeing both as an accomplice in her father’s death. She didn’t care about the war brewing among the European countries.

Percival, however, was not his sister and he had no such illusions with magic. He was loyal to MACUSA and to the magical community. It was the people that were corrupted, not magic, and corrupted people could be found anywhere. Magic was just another means to an end. It was practical and made life easier, but in the wrong hands nothing was safe, which could also be said by those in power or had money.

He finished his schooling at Ilvermorny in 1912 and immediately applied for the auror program at MACUSA. He didn’t find it ironic that he was going against his mother’s wishes as she went against her parents’ when she married his father. Percival needed to honor his father’s memory. He needed to prove that he was worthy of his father’s heritage. The painting of Gondulphus always eyed him whenever he visited his ancestral home. He had big shoes to fill and family to please. There was no room for entertainment and joy. Percival was a pencil pusher, another gear in the machine, but he was dedicated and honest. He had a dark wizard named Grindelwald to take down.

But we are getting ahead of ourselves here. Newt wouldn’t had like that.

xxxXXXxxx

When Percival's father died, the grandparents that never cared for their daughter and her children suddenly welcomed them back into their arms. She was, after all, family and she was grieving. Bertha packed up her house, released her house elves, and took her children out of New York and into the countryside where the air was fresh, the fields were green and magic flowed free.  

It was strange living on his grandparents’ estate: noises filled empty hallways, a sweet scent lingered the pond, and cold drafts occasionally drifted through on a cloudless, sunny day.

Florence, Percival's grandmother, would gather her grandchildren during their many evenings at the estate. She would speak of riddles and stories time had forgotten; how magic was not a vessel, but in nature itself. Time was not linear, but fluid and forever twisting, bending, and unraveling. Darwin and the naturalists were beginning to uncover the secrets of the universe, and while science may jump ahead by leaps and bounds it could never solve all the mysteries the universe had to offer.

James, Percival’s grandfather, used Florence’s family wealth and his family’s influence to buy a series of iron mills, helping the Northeast build skyscrapers and railroad tracks. He was rarely home, always away fiddling over one machinery and another, but his presence loomed large in the many empty rooms. He was practical and straight. He used magic to his benefit and saw no consequences in its use to better himself, nor his family. Florence saw in him a stable life. James saw a road for opportunity in her. Together they make an odd couple, one immerse in nature and the other immerse in industry, but a couple nonetheless.  

xxxXXXxxx

Percival felt that his childhood was but a footnote in his family history. Children lost their fathers and babies died in childbirth. That was the way of life. It was harsh and unforgiving, but it made those who survived that much stronger.

Percival took after his grandfather in many sense. Florence’s view of the world was too fluid and fragile, giving up your destiny to nature’s ebbs and flow. His mother was barely alive behind her shell, black clothing coloring her days. Percival had to find his own way and James’ view of the world made sense.

This did not mean that his childhood was wholly uneventful. His governess made sure he was well educated before heading off to Ilvermorny and the fields behind his house were filled with herbs and magical creatures who were unafraid to roam free.

Once when he was ten he rescued a niffler caught in an acromantula’s web. Percival wasn’t sure how there was an acromantula on his grandparents’ estate, but he couldn’t let the little niffler die tangled up in the white silk. Once he released the niffler, the creature snuggled up against his chest and refused to leave his side. Percival had no choice but to bring the creature back with him, making a mental note to tell the house elves to lock up the silvers and golds. He placed the niffler he named Niffy next to his pillow and fell asleep staring at the creature before him as he slowly ran his fingers through the niffler’s soft fur. Come morning the niffler was gone and so was his father’s ring, the gold band with the green crest and the letter ‘G’ engraved on the inside. It was a hot summer morning, but an unexpected cold draft made Percival crawled underneath the covers as he worried about coming up with a story to tell his mother.

Percival never got used to living at his grandparent’s estate. Phantom touches upon his skin, the occasional missing garments, and strange beasts crossing the fields beyond his window. On the anniversary of his father’s death Pervial would feel someone hugging him as he lied alone on his bed crying about the things he would never get to do with his father. On the eve of his departure to Ilvermorny a voice whispered his name as he was too nervous to fall asleep. He made himself believe that it was his father from beyond the grave wishing he was there to be with his only son.

Edith never experienced anything out of the ordinary, nor did she seek it out. She flourished in the countryside and had taken to walking to the no-maj’s village across the way. Magic was an unnecessary burden and Florence’s talks of nature and time an unnecessary bore. The bond of siblings, it seemed, was in name only.

xxxXXXxxx

There were several more instances at the estate, usually involving various creatures here and there. They gravitated to him as if they were loyal hunting dogs following its master. Seemingly dangerous creatures and mischievous creatures attached themselves to Percival without a care in the world and became territorial to those who meant harm. Edward’s friends from MACUSA would routinely say that the estate was one of the safest in the countryside, maybe even safer than Ilvermorny, but Percival knew better. He had his father’s aura around him and that was what the creatures responded to.

His governess said otherwise. While Edith escaped her lessons by locking herself in the family’s library, their governess would entertained Percival with stories of wizards and witches long gone. It was a highlight of his youth, just him and her and his creatures around them. One day when he was fourteen and home from school, she suddenly turned and looked at him worryingly. She reached out and touched his hair as if she saw a ghost. She quickly pulled back and excused herself. Later behind closed doors, Percival could hear her telling his grandmother that for a flicker of a second it seemed that “he had no future and everything was black around his edges.” He told no one that right before she touched his hair Percival felt a weight on his chest and a pair of lips against his ear whispering, “I'll find a way to save you. I promise.” His father died saving a group of no-maj children. Percival was sure that Edward would make sure his death was not in vain.

xxxXXXxxx

Percival was minding his own business stomping through Ilvermorny’s grounds the first time he met him. He wasn't even sure if that was his first time. Memory and time were always a bit muddled around this particular British wizard.

Percival’s grandfather had sent word and he was not pleased with his grandson’s scores, which really meant that he was not pleased with Edith’s scores. They were to spend their holidays at the school as punishment.

Edith was an average witch. Doable, but unfortunately not one you can count on in battle. Their grandparents had lived through the Civil War and the Spanish American War. There were talks of unrest in Europe, nations grabbling for power and territories. It was not the time to be sub-par.

Percival knew the other unspoken reason. He was beginning to look like his father day by day, by the way he been told that his smile was reminiscent of his father’s and how his eyes had the light and dark qualities to them based on his moods. Bertha couldn’t even stay in the same room as Percival; the way he hold himself together as he stand was too much like Edward’s, always eyeing the room and cataloging everything down to its last detail.  

Fifteen was too old for tears, but tears came anyway. It dotted his cheeks and made his skin shine even during the cloudy day. Percival could hear a distant cries of a phoenix, a friend he made recently. It belonged to a professor that was in Illvermorny for the year from Hogwarts. The bird took a liking to him that even he couldn’t figure it out, but the professor encouraged the friendship between the two of them, saying how the phoenix could sense a kin.

Hearing Fawkes following him as he walked through Ilvermorny’s grounds calmed his heart a bit. The tears had stopped flowing and his head a bit clearer. As he was wiping away the last of his tears, Percival felt a shift in the air, a sudden cold blast, and a body in the way. He bumped into a man wearing a blue coat, who suddenly appeared out of thin air, and caused them both to stumble down the hill.   

Upon resting at the foot of the hill, Percival breathed out a heavy sigh. He was already having a shitty day and this just added to his misery. There were blood on his hands as he wiped his face free from dirt and grass. The man next to him did not look any better. It seemed that he went through a wringer: his blue coat had small tears here and there, his hair out of sorts, and his arm and face were scraped and bleeding. He was also looking at Percival as if he saw a ghost.

The man couldn't be a no-maj. His wand were held tightly in his hand, but he was looking at Percival with such anguish and puzzlement that made Percival terrified for a split second. Ilvermorny would not had allowed someone with ill intentions onto its ground and Fawkes would had came bearing down if he sense Percival in danger. The man was clearly older than Percival, maybe in his late 20s or early 30s. His hair was reddish-brown, his skin light, and the stranger had such beautiful green eyes Percival had ever seen.

Percival cleared his throat, which suddenly became dry, before asking, “Are you one of our Headmaster’s visitors? He said something about soldiers dressing up as Union men coming to give a talk about the war.” It would explain the appearance and his demeanor. Percival had seen many shell-shocked men during his visits to the city. They couldn’t get the war out of them and it had affected every part of their being, any war a nasty business, from the Civil War to the one that ended a little over a decade ago.

The man in front of Percival continued to gape, eyes widen and slightly watering. It made him self-conscious. There was a bowtruckle peeking out of the coat’s pocket before ducking out of sight again, not before giving Percival a sad look and a mournful cry.

“Union soldier?” asked the stranger, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion. His eyes held such warmth and sadness as he continued to gaze at Percival.

Percival coughed and made a gesture. “Your blue coat.” He realized he made the wrong assessment when he took in the man’s British accent.

The man suddenly looked down at his unkempt attire.  “Oh, it's just a normal blue coat,” the man said softly. He brushed off what looked like ash from the arms of his coat.  

“Why are you looking at me like that?” asked Percival, suddenly feeling bold and unafraid.

“Like what?”  

“Like you’re a no-maj who seen a ghost,” replied Percival. He was getting a bit frustrated with the lack of answers.

“Just someone who died,” whispered the stranger. Before Percival could questioned him more about what he heard, the man asked, “Do you know who I am?”

“No,” replied Percival swiftly and strongly. He saw a flash of pain go through the man’s eyes. “Should I?”

The man shook his head. “No. Of course not. Not yet.” He kicked the ground and the loose dirt went flying. “This is wrong. All wrong.” The man took another look at Percival before he padded his coat looking for something. “You're bleeding and your eyes are red.”

“No,” huffed Percival. “I'm not.” He stood a bit taller. He was fifteen. He couldn’t admit that he was feeling homesick and neglected.

“Here,” the man said softly. “Use my handkerchief.” He held out the white cloth he pulled from the many pockets of his coat.

Percival hesitantly took the handkerchief after the spell he muttered showed that the cloth was free from curses and spells. His cuts were beginning to sting and the little dirt left on his face was not helping the matter. “Thanks,” Percival offered. He would need to visit the sick wing and have himself looked at after all of this was over. Maybe he was a friend with the professor? “Who are you?” he asked after he spelled the handkerchief cleaned and gave it back. He made note of the embroidered “N.S.” at the corner.  

“It's not important yet,” said the man. His finger lingered a second too long when he took back the handkerchief. Percival’s skin tinged with warmth.

“What's not important? What do you mean by ‘yet’?” asked Percival. His jaw was set tight as he was becoming frustrated with the lack of answers.

Suddenly a cry went through the air. The man looked up and saw Fawkes circling above. “Is that Faw...a phoenix?” he breathed.

Percival nodded and feeling a bit smug. Phoenix were hard to find in the wild, let alone kept as pets. “He belongs to Professor Dumbledore.”

The man slowly nodded his head as he processed the name. “Dumbledore,” he mumbled. Suddenly the man snapped his head up and walked right up to Percival and took his hand. Percival was too stunned to do anything as the man took out a ribbon and tied it around Percival’s wrist, spelling it to tie a knot at the end. “Here. Take this. It’s a ribbon made from jobberknoll’s feathers and the leather binding here is made from the skin of a Swedish short-snout dragon. Jobberknoll’s feathers are used in memory potions and the dragon hide are used as a shield, but of course you know that. It took me ages to find the right spell to thread the two together. Wear this as a token.” His breathing was harsh and his words jumbled, but Percival could hear the fear and anguish.  

“I don’t need any more well wishing tokens. My grandmother always send one every other week to make sure I’m in good health,” said Percival. The strange man was soft to the touch and had a slight lavender scent.

“Wear it,” the man said, desperation lacing his words. “Please.”

All of the sudden the hand that was holding his disappeared. A flash of heat coated Percival’s skin before the gloomy weather was taken back to form. The air shifted and the sounds muted. Fawkes cried again as he flapped around overhead, breaking through the silence. The memory of what had occurred slowly faded away in Percival’s mind, him constantly seeking out to hold onto the beautiful green eyes, the softness of the handkerchief against his skin and the tattered appearance of the blue coat.

After a short while, Percival rubbed his eyes, feeling the sting of the cold and dirt. His mind was empty and cleared. He needed to head back. His friends would worry. Professor Dumbledore would probably say something about his rough appearance.

Percival glanced down at his hand. When did he get this ribbon? It had a nice color to it, the soft blue that was a sharp contrast to his skin.

Fawkes cried again.

Yes, he knows. Percival needed to head back. There was no one out here and it looked like it was going to rain. He rubbed the ribbon between his fingers. It grew warm with his touch. Sometimes his grandmother’s had nice taste. He should wear this more often as a show of gratitude.

Percival sighed and began to walk back. There was something nudging at the edge of his thoughts, but it must not had mean anything if he couldn't remember what he had forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

Percival was accepted to the auror training program the summer after he graduated from Ilvermorny. His grandparents were ecstatic. His mother took Percival’s face into her hands and kissed his temple, a rare moment between the two of them. Edith hugged him and whispered that their father would be proud.

It was a harsh two years before the War. A legacy to live up to and a life to live on. Percival proposed to his sweetheart from school, Mildred. Her laughter and her gentle demeanor was a contrast to his own. She was the bright light at the end of his days as he fought his way to the top of his class. She found his creatures to be adorable and was a loving mother to them, a quality he cherished.

However, strange incidents still occurred. A feeling like he was missing something important. There was always a constant presence around him, an empty void suffocating his very being. Sometimes when he dreamed at night a freckled face British man with red hair and beautiful green eyes would be talking to him about his creatures and helping him with his defensive spells. It was a flicker, a fleeting moment. Never concrete, a hidden recess in his mind. A dream amongst his dreams. But it always felt real and the ribbon he always wore would burn his skin red. He never took it off even though he could never remember what he dreamt about.

Once Mildred asked him what he was dreaming about at nights with his lips were in a wide smile. Percival would honestly answer that he didn’t remember. It was a peaceful time for him.

The world had other plans.

xxxXXXxxx

One day Franz Ferdinand was assassinated and the world went to hell. Percival was nineteen, still young and naive, and the world had descended to chaos.  

President Wilson proclaimed neutrality. Percival did not care. People were dying and stories about what happened in Belgium filled his ears. He would not stand for this. His father would not stand for this.

Using his connections, meager as it was, and his family name, Percival was able to help with the war effort under the Ministry. They needed more young men, especially men who had rudimentary training as an auror and exposure to magical creatures. Mildred followed him to Europe and used her healer training to help treat those that needed the most: wounded soldiers, families, orphans.

They married on the day Percival turned twenty, before the fighting turned worse. It would be one of the happiest day of his life. When they kissed at the end of the small ceremony, Percival heard a faint whisper, “She’s as lively as you described her.” A pause then the voice continued, with a bleak undertone, “Remember this. Treasure this moment.”

Percival held Mildred tighter and held back his tears.

xxxXXXxxx

“It’s a Chinese Fireball.” The voice cut through the crowd of men and creatures.

It was 1917 and the United States had just entered the war Percival been fighting for four years.

“She’s beautiful,” proclaimed Percival. Few things nowadays could take his breath away.

“My brother is around here somewhere. He’s her rider,” said the British officer. He had a friendly grin on his face and he regarded Percival with humor.  “American?”

The dragon that was thrashing about before quieted a bit as Percival walked toward her. The creature usually never had anyone come near her without prompting, anyone but her rider, and Percival was sure that he sparked an interest with the dragon.

“Can’t you tell?” asked Percival, stepping over the magical hold surrounding the dragon. He hesitantly held out his right hand toward the dragon, flipping his hand over once, twice to show his humility. The dragon snorted in response. The British officer laughed, impressed with his bravery. “Domesticated?”

“Hardly.” The British soldier snubbed his cigarette. He eyed Percival’s encounter with unhidden curiosity. “My brother does try though. Theseus, by the way.”

“Percival.” The dragon sniffed the air around Percival, nudging a bit into his hand and licking and sniffing the ribbon tied there.

Theseus whistled, impressed. “Don’t tell my brother that you won her over. He’ll sit you down and ask you questions till the sun comes up three evenings from now on how you did that.” Theseus turned his attention away when one of his fellow commanders called out his name.

Percival paid him no mind when Theseus walked away as he continued petting the dragon. She was beautiful. Red and gold colored her skin and her eyes were wide with care. He knew that his rider took great care of her, her scars were covered with ointment and she was well-fed in a war that took everything.  

He paid no attention to the sudden cold blast and shift in the air; the dragon captivating him. There were many soldiers around and no one was reacting to anything unusual. It was only after a flash of heat that he realized something was amiss and familiar.

By then Theseus returned but his humor and light-hearted tone was gone. Instead a haunted look replaced his features. “Graves, right? Percival Edward Graves.”

“My reputation precede me,” said Percival. He spelled his hands clean and gave the dragon one last look. “I don’t think I mentioned my middle and last name.”

“Someone told me who you are.” There was a lull in conversation before Theseus said, “Do you like a cuppa? My mum just sent me a tin of leaves.”

“Sorry, but I need to meet with my wife. I was given only a week of leave and she’s here somewhere taking care of soldiers.”

“Wife, yes.” Theseus nodded his head, slowly. “If she so inclined, please bring her along. The troops here aren’t being deployed anytime soon and I like to hear stories of happier times.” Seeing that Percival was still hesitating, he added, “I can tell you more about Alice.”  

“Alice?”

“The dragon.”

Percival gave it some thought. It would be nice to spend an evening talking about things other than the war. “I’ll ask Mildred but I’m sure she won’t object. She’ll love to meet another friendly face in times like these.”

Alice gave a small roar that surprised those in attendance. Some soldiers muttered angrily about having a dragon this close to encampment, while others just went back to minding their own business. Theseus shifted his gaze off to the side as if he was looking at someone off in the distance before returning his attention to Percival. “Perfect.” 

xXxXxXx

Mildred fell sick a year later. The Spanish influenza came and took what the War didn’t.

And Percival  _ wasn’t fucking there. _

He was off undercover and Theseus’ letter didn’t reach him till she was three days five feet under.

From what he gathered, she was helping those who needed the most and contracted the disease not soon after. She always had a weak disposition. It what gotten her into the medical field in the first place. She always pushed herself for her patients, not caring too much for herself in the process.

Percival had to wait till the War was over before he could collect her remains at the Scamander estate. He had discussed this with Mildred after he joined the war effort and she followed. If she were to passed away during the war, Percival would bring the body back to be burned at the Graves estate. The ashes would then be spread along the riverbanks neighboring the manor. Mildred always liked his family and his creatures. She felt more at home there than anywhere else in the world. She would find peace knowing that Percival and his creatures would look after her.

Percival hastily agreed because he couldn’t imagine this coming to pass. And now it did.  _ And it fucking hurt. _

No wonder his mother never gotten over his father’s death. It was like losing one part of yourself, forever lost and never whole. Would he ever feel whole again?

Percival declined Theseus’ offer to join him. He needed to do this alone. He needed to use the time to say goodbye. He needed to be with her one last time.

As he watched the fire burn, Percival sweared that he saw a wampus cat at the other side of the riverbank: a patronus. Edward’s patronus was a wampus. His father was here and he breath in comfort in knowing that.

Percival took another deep breath, tears still in his eyes, as he cast the charm. Soon his patronus took form, the phoenix flying over and swooping around the magical cat. Mildred’s was a swan and it was always breathtaking beautiful to see his and her patronus interact, a known kin to one another, both bearing its caster’s secrets, affections, and wonders.

When he first cast the spell, his patronus was also a wampus. It form changed mid-way through his years at Ilvermorny, half-way through Professor Dumbledore’s stint at the school.

It wasn’t difficult conjuring his patronus. All he had to do was think of Mildred: her eyes, her laughter, her unending kindness. He also thought of green eyes, even though Mildred’s was brown. His mother had green eyes and they had great moments back when his father was alive.

His cheeks were wet with tears, but remembering all the good times he had with Mildred, no matter how short it was, gave him some feeling back into his body. He no longer felt numb as he watched the fire burn.

The wampus circled his phoenix before disappearing and it was in that moment he smiled for the first time since he read Theseus’ letter.

Percival closed his eyes and tilted his head up to the sky. In the distance, he thought he heard a voice.  _ “You’re the strongest man I know. You will get through this.” _

Yes, he will. He would make sure his life would not be in vain. Mildred would not want that. He would make his father proud. He would make her proud.


	3. Chapter 3

“Do you have a nervous tick?” a male voice startled Percival out of his thoughts. He was currently at his desk filling out some paperwork on a case he and another auror closed a day earlier. A nasty bit with a wizard and his affinity with nude no-maj women. He rubbed his eyes, red from the lack of sleep, and looked up. Ever since Mildred’s death five years ago, he been working non-stop at MACUSA, raising up the ranks and currently second behind the Director in the Magical Security department. His grandfather was proud of his work ethic. (Percival tried not to think about his father. Edward would be disappointed that his son was letting his work consume him whole, but how else was he supposed to live up to his family legacy?) 

“Tick?” he responded wearily. Tina Goldstein and a nervous looking red-headed man was standing before his desk. Percival cleared his throat and straightened his tie at the company.    

“You keep tapping your desk with your wand,” said the man. He was not look at Percival, finding the floor a bit more interesting. His accent a sharp contrast against Tina’s and Percival’s, an English fellow. Percival could see Tina tighten her grip on the man’s arm.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize that I was doing that,” said Percival. He glanced at the green eyes before looking over at Tina. Why did his eyes seemed familiar to Percival? He must be tired, or at least in need of another cup of coffee. “Anyway, Tina, what’s the meaning of this?”

“He didn’t give me his name, sir, but I found him by the bank. He doesn’t have a wand permit, nor does he have permits for his creatures.” She nodded to the man’s briefcase. Tina was a good auror, but tended to be strictly by the book, seeing the world more black and white than gray. She also saw Percival as a mentor, one that he happily accepted. She reminded him of his sister, head-strong and not a care in the world for talks in choosing a profession in a men’s field.

The man furiously shook his head. “I was letting my Jobberknoll stretch her wings and my niffler only escaped that one time. He never had done something like that before,” he responded. “Like I was saying before you rudely apparated us here, my brother took care of all the boring paperwork. He works at the Ministry. We both do, though I’m currently taking some time off to write my book.”

Tina gave a look of disbelief.

The man set his lips in a thin line. “I do have the necessary permits.” He paused. “I think.” He scratched his chin. “Hopefully. My brother isn’t the reliable sorts.”

Suddenly a leafy green creature peaked out of the man’s breast pocket, before hidden itself away from the three. “Is that a bowtruckle?” asked Percival, eyes widen. The bowtruckle peeked out again and eyed Percival.

Tina gave an exasperated sigh. Percival eyed her and tilted his head slightly to show his displeasure at her reaction. She responded by letting go of the man’s arm and taking a step back, a way of an apology to Percival.

“You have a good eye,” said the man. He didn’t noticed the silent conversation between the two. “Yes,” he said proudly. “His name is Pickett. He’s unfortunately terribly attached to me, I’m afraid.” However, he was looking down at the bowtruckle, puzzled at the creature’s behavior. Pickett had yet to hide himself away. Instead, its little twig arms were hanging off the pocket and the leaves on its head were swaying a bit. Pickett was clearly interested in seeing how this interaction was going to end.

Percival nodded his head, eyeing the bowtruckle warmly. “We recently arrested some smugglers and they were using bowtruckles to pick locks. Starve them so the creatures would do their bidding.” A terrible thing to do. Using creatures for their own personal, selfish gains. This would not do, not when he was working at MACUSA.

“Well, I hope they get a long and painful sentence then for their actions,” the man finally looked Percival straight on and the action took Percival’s breath away. There was something so familiar about those eyes. All of the sudden he was reminded of his time at his grandparents’ estate, the strange occurrences and dejavus. The voices that would fill empty hallways and the feeling of a presence next to him always.  

“You and I both,” said Percival. He hadn’t thought about his childhood in a long while.  

“What happened to the creatures?”

“I made sure that they were all taken care of,” said Percival, shrugging his shoulders, as if this should be the natural course to be taken given the situation. “I’m helping with shaping MACUSA’s current policies on magical creatures and the smuggling case was a great way to show the president what happens when things get done properly.”

Tina cleared her throat, making her presence known. “Sir.” The man next to her jumped a little, probably having forgotten that she was there.

“Sorry, Tina,” replied Percival. He returned his attention to the mysterious man. “May I have your name? So I can look to see if you do have the necessary permits?”

“I thought you would have recognized me, Mr. Graves. You must had seen pictures of me before. Newt. Newt Scamander.”

Percival raised his eyebrows at the mention of his name. “As in Theseus’ younger brother?”

“I think I’m capable of making my own name known, but yes. Theseus is my older brother,” said Newt, shrugging. A look of defiant in his eyes.  

“You know him, sir?” asked Tina.

“The dragon rider brother,” said Percival. “Theseus refused to show me your picture, saying that if we were eager to meet each other, we should and not drag him to be a mediator.” He briefly thought back to the first time he met Theseus. Newt never made it back in time to have tea with them, something to do with new intel on the enemy and their use of hippogriffs. He had to leave immediately if he were to meet up with the informant by daybreak.  

Newt smiled at Percival’s tibet.   

“I met his brother during the War. It seemed throughout our time knowing each other, Newt and I always seemed to miss the opportunity to get acquainted. Either Newt had some matters to attend or I did. I always did inquired about you, though.”

“As did I. You are one of the few Americans that actually impressed Theseus,” said Newt. “I  meant to write my condolences about your wife. I heard she was a wonderful woman.”

Tina looked surprised at the mention of Percival’s wife. “Do you know much about her? I’ve been trying to get him to talk about her, but he always refused. How did they meet?” she hurriedly asked.

“ _ Tina _ .” Percival gave her a glare.

“Sorry, sir,” apologized Tina, though there was no hint of apology in the words spoken, “but you never talk about her. It’s nice to remember lost loved ones from time to time so they never lose their place in the world. If she was a wonderful woman, as Newt here said, then let us remember her as a wonderful woman.”

“This is not the time,” stressed Percival. The pain was still there even five years later. Just because he wasn’t wearing black didn’t mean he still was grieving for her.

“I didn’t mean to start something,” said Newt. His eyes were back on the floor.

Percival sighed. “I’m sure your brother did get the necessary permits for you, Newt. From what I know of him, he’s overly overprotective of you, even though you are the one who rides dragons, for God’s sake.”

“Oh, that,” replied Newt. “It’s not because I’m his younger brother. It something else entirely.”

Percival was about to ask more, but Newt hauled his case onto his desk and clicked it open. “Just know that I’m perfectly capable of handling my creatures, but what I have in my case might give some a start.”

Tina raised her eyebrows at that last bit. “They hadn’t hurt anyone, had they?”

Newt shrugged. “Not that I know of, but they tend to keep their bad behaviors to themselves.”

“Well, now I’m naturally curious,” said Percival as he eyed the briefcase.

Newt held out his hand to Tina, which she took, and lead her to the ladder into his case. “Shall we?” He didn’t wait for Percival before grabbing his hand and took them both down to his workshop.

Percival could feel his ribbon grow warm against his skin as he stepped down the ladder, but he didn’t thought much of it.

He couldn’t stop thinking about those eyes.

xXxXxXx

Once Tina’s younger sister Queenie had encountered Newt, there was no stopping in him becoming a fixture at MACUSA. He would come by and spend some time with Tina, their whole unpleasant first encounter forgotten. Somehow he got introduced to Queenie and now they were inseparable, both only looking for the good in others and both have a bleeding heart. She said that the British wizard had a quality that she had seen in but a few (few) wizards and witches, but wouldn’t tell her sister nor Graves what it was.

“Oh, it’s nothing big, darling,” she said as she placed a cup of tea in front of Percival. “Just wonderful.”

“Wonderful?” asked Percival.

“Yes,” she replied, a smile quick to her face. “You need someone else beside yourself who’s so adamant in saving all those poor and abused creatures, Percy.” She brought her voice down to a whisper. “I also have it in good authority that he finds you rather handsome, might I say.”

Percival choked on his tea, liquid spilling all over his tie. He and Newt had came into a habit of grabbing something light at the bakery around the corner of MACUSA near ten while he visited and the occasional dinner once every other day. Percival went along at first because Newt would mentioned something about a black market MACUSA had tried to infiltrate and failed or he had a wounded creature and came to pick Percival’s mind about the given care. Nevertheless, the man had grown on him. Even Tina mentioned that Newt got Percival to be  _ opened _ . (Oh, how he detest that word.) Percival did not remotely know what Newt got in return for his companionship, though he once said that them spending time together has anchored him. When Percival inquired more, Newt stutteringly elaborated that he needed to get his head out of his apartment and away from his manuscript that was now consuming his time and energy. Talking to Percival about MACUSA matters and finding another who cared for creatures as much as he did helped him from “going stir crazy and plotting revenge on Theseus for spelling my knickers purple when I was twelve.”

(He didn’t mind the baked goods and dinners near noon hour. He enjoyed Newt’s company. Something about him made him feel….safe. Something he only achieved after meeting Mildred and then subsequently lost.)

Queenie didn’t miss a beat and spelled his attire clean. “Mildred wouldn’t want you to die alone. She would want you to find someone who is compassionate, loving, and kind. All attributes she saw in you.”

(He also didn’t mentioned to the Goldstein sisters that he was interested in both men and women. Slept with both sexes. He just never had a long lasting relationship and he preferred if the sisters would stay out of his personal life.)

Percival cleared his throat. “Stay out of my mind, Queenie.”

She smirked. “I don’t need to read your mind to know what your late wife would have wanted for you. Besides, it would do him some good. Not just you.”

He sighed. “And why would it do him some good?”

Queenie smiled and turned to walk out of his office. “Now, my dear. That’s a secret.” She stopped by the door. “You can’t keep chasing Grindelwald, sir. You need some good in your life as well. Just take it into consideration.”

Percival didn’t touch his tea again after Queenie left. There were too many thoughts muddling in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary, his old governess, sent a telegram during an unbearably hot and sticky summer day. Percival was getting nowhere with Grindelwald. All leads turned into dead ends and would-be informants were too scared to talk. He was working day in and day out sitting at his desk pouring over clues and walking out on streets putting holes in his shoes. Nevertheless, when the telegram appeared at his door, off he went to his grandparents’ estate without hesitation. 

Mary didn’t believed in using owls or any sort of animals in delivering her letters and since many wizards and witches in America still looked down on no-majs and their contraptions (as Newt constantly brings up, “ _ Backward thinkings on both side of the pond.” _ ) Mary made use of them to her own advantage. Ever since that day when he was fourteen, Percival made every effort in listening to her warnings and sightings. It served him well during the War and his position at MACUSA. 

Tina requested that Percival bring back his grandmother’s famous baked blueberry muffins, Queenie wished him well during his travels, and Newt showed up in the seat next to his on the train with a cheeky smile and a glint in his eyes, saying something about how his creatures needed some fresh country air. Percival made no mention about Newt’s sudden appearance and apparent lie. He just nodded his head and continued to read his newspaper with a slight smile on his face. 

Newt took to the country far better than the city. The second they appeared on the estate off he went behind the manor, saying something about how his bowtruckles needed to stretch their bodies and wasn't the weather beautiful?

Florence met Percival at the door, giving him a kiss and an excuse on his grandfather’s absence. His mother was currently at his sister’s residence in England and it was just her and Mary at the manor. She lead him quietly to Mary’s little cottage off on the edge of the estate before hurrying away. A few of her friends were coming over and she need to check on the kitchen. She knew when a situation calls for an audience and she respected the governess’s privacy.

Percival found Mary staring off by the window. The sky was blue, the heat from the sun shimmered slightly on the grass, and the cooling charm held as Percival awkwardly stood there waiting on her to speak, always feeling like he was five and got caught with his hand in the cookie jar in her presence. He could see Newt off in the distance through the window, a few of his creatures walking around him. The smile on his face was infectious.

“He’s an odd little bird, isn’t he?” asked Mary. Her eyes a bit clouded and her arms crossed over her chest. While her tone was cold, Percival saw no ill intentions against Newt. This was Mary’s way of assessing the man.

“He’s a friend,” replied Percival, providing justification on why the British wizard was here during an intimate manner. 

“A rare one, even amongst our kind,” continued Mary, her voice barely above a whisper. She gave Percival a quick glance and gestured to the table where tea was waiting. “Be kind to him. He cares about you.” 

Percival gave no reaction as he sat down. Mary had said the same thing about Mildred. He took a sip or two, before saying, “Grindelwald is looking for something. An artifact or maybe even a person or creature. No one knows anything and those that might know are too afraid to talk.” 

“Remember what I told you when you were young?” Mary asked. She settled down across from him and leaned back into her chair.  

“ _ Leave the creatures outside, Percy? _ ” said Percival with a smile. 

“And you found another who’s also fond of wild beasts,” retorted Mary, her eyebrows raised. 

“Mary,” started Percival. 

“Mildred is glad you’re moving on,” said Mary, ignoring Percival’s warning. Her head was tilted to the side as she was listening to a whispered conversation. “She just wants you to hurry it up a bit.” 

Percival said nothing as he slowly chew on the biscuit that was laid out. He could hear Newt in the distance, his voice cheerful as he called after his occamy. He could see the winged beast taking flight and enjoying its freedom from the confinement of the suitcase. He wanted to be there standing beside the magizoologist, but duty demanded his attention.  

“As you know I have the power of Sight,” began Mary, her lips in a tight line and face emotionless. “I’m grateful for your grandparents. Not many with my gifts are able to live peaceful lives. Instead we are imprisoned, used, and discarded.” 

“My grandmother’s kindness sees no boundaries,” replied Percival. He had heard stories of those with the Sight and not many ended happily. 

“And I made sure to repay my debts. I taught you and your sister that magic is relentless and unknown. Unlike the systematic lifeless schooling you gotten as a teenager, I wanted the both of you to know that not everything is discovered and studied and that anything that was discovered and studied is not absolute,” said Mary. She waved her hand a bit over her cup of tea, steam suddenly raising from the liquid. “Reading bumps on your head was the forefront of psychology eighty years ago and now most consider phrenology a quack.”  

“Mary, I already know all of this,” said Percival with a sigh. 

“You needed the reminder,” replied Mary, her pale gray eyes leveled against his. “Skepticism goes a long way as well as unconditional belief in knowing that not all answers are given. Some things, events, concepts are still unknown and will always be unknown.”

“You said you might have something on Grindelwald.” He did not have time for another lecture from his childhood. 

“And you brought home a British man,” she replied. Percival ignored how Mary knew Newt was British when he had yet to introduce them. He could still hear Newt’s laughter in the distance. 

“Do you know what Grindelwald is looking for?” asked Percival, trying to get straight to the point. He had patience before, but now there was a dark wizard creating havoc and Mary had the habit of teasing out her visions and giving him the roundabout.  

“Information,” she stated plainly. “As do we all. The Greeks myths you were fond of when you were a child has some basis in reality. Great wizards and witches in the past did some incredible and unbelievable things and no-majs passed down their stories from generations to generations, changing things here and there. Norse myths had the same treatment, so did stories from China and Japan. Even figures in American tall tales were once alive and real. No-majs persevered them while we promptly forgotten them. Grindelwald knows this. The importance of listening to our ancestors.” She paused while she took a sip from her mug. “He wants to manipulate time.” 

“Time?” asked Percival in disbelief. “Even with a time turner you can’t change the progression of events as they played out. Events are irreversible.” 

Mary laughed, her voice filling the unusually quiet room. There were always creatures coming and going outside on the estate, but now there was only silence and stillness. Percival couldn’t even hear Newt anymore. 

“How would you know?” asked Mary. “Time for you, for me, for everyone else is from one point to another point. You wouldn’t know if someone is manipulating your time in this world. You only know what you experienced, the end result.”

“You sound like my grandmother,” said Percival. 

“Her words has some truth in them,” said Mary. “I have the power of Sight. Some say that those with our gifts were blessed by Cassandra’s hands. Do not make me a tragic figure like her, Percival.”  

Percival said nothing, waiting on Mary to continue on with her warnings. 

Mary took another sip of her tea before summoning her house elf who appeared with a pop. She gave instructions for the creature to send out tea and biscuits to Newt and to apologize for being a bad host. The elf nodded his head and with a pop he went. They could see Newt graciously taking what he was being offered and sheeply waved his hand in thanks. Mary smiled in return, though Percival could see that it was strained. All of the sudden, she said, “There are reports of those with the ability to summon fire at will without a wand or a spell, a gift from Ra. Rarer still are those with the power of temporal displacement; the history of how one obtain the power is still a bit muddled, given the circumstance. I’m sure they they wouldn’t want people to know.” 

“Temporal displacement?”

“Manipulation of time, whether it’s intentional or not, innate or learned. This is what Grindelwald is seeking,” replied Mary. 

“Why?” This did not make sense to Percival. Time was too complicated to manipulate or control. There were limitless possibilities and distractions and trying to find one path amongst many will give even the smartest man the will to kill himself.  

“If he was smart enough, to better his enemies,” stated Mary. “But he’s human like all of us. All what I gathered from my visions is you, that boy out there and Grindelwald battling somewhere. He mentioned something about going back to Godric’s Hollow and that night. My visions always end the same: the British man crying, you on the ground bleeding, and Grindelwald laughing.” 

xXxXxXx

“Are those grindylows?” asked Percival as he approached Newt. He could see Newt’s opened suitcase and his blue coat lying on the grass by the riverbank. 

“Yes,” answered Newt, a smile on his face. “Aren’t they lovely?”

Percival hummed in approval as he watched the creatures snapped at each other in the waters. Newt was lying down on the grass and prompting himself up with his elbows as various creatures were walking about around him. The sun highlighted his nose and the pale freckles on his cheeks, creating an aura around him that Percival was afraid to get near, a true innocent that Percival was sure didn't apply to Newt. He wasn’t sure if he should sit down beside him or continue standing when Newt asked, “How was your talk?” 

“Confusing,” admitted Percival after a minute. Thoughts muddled his mind as he pondered on the implications of Mary’s warnings. Many interpretations could be taken upon with the best intentions, but the actual truth of the matters won’t revealed itself to after everything was said and done and that what scared Percival the most. 

“I can owl Albus. He was friends with Grindelwald when they were younger. Maybe he has some insight,” said Newt, glancing quickly at the auror before looking away, a hint of pink colored his neck.

Percival offered his thanks and the two of them continued watching the river flow pass and the grindylow snaps. It was peaceful. Quiet. 

“It’s beautiful,” said Newt, his tone light and with a sense of awe. “Your grandparents’ estate. I can see why you speak highly of it.”

Feeling a tug, Percival glanced down and saw Newt’s niffler by his legs. The two of them had developed a rapport the past couple of weeks. Percival allowed him full run of MACUSA’s Lost Magical Possessions (given that anything he takes weren't dangerous or harmful to itself and to others) and in return the niffler helped him out with some busts in dealing with illegal smugglers (which required a lot of wrangling apparently). 

Percival gave a sigh and reluctantly sat down and pet the creature, clearly a soft spot that needed to be remedied.

“Why did you come, Newt?” asked Percival. The niffler smuggled closer to him giving him warmth as a sudden breeze passed by, signalling an end to the long afternoon. 

“I thought you needed someone with you,” replied Newt as he tilted his head toward the departing sun. 

“I can handle going home and meeting my family,” replied Percival.

“But this is your first time back since you buried Mildred,” said Newt in a matter of fact tone. 

Percival paused a bit in petting the niffler. “How did you know?” he hesitantly asked. He didn't mean to avoid visiting home, but his family always came to him during the holidays or they exchanged correspondent through letters. It was easier that way.

“Queenie,” admitted Newt, not caring if he was venturing into some very personal matters with Percival. “People tend to reveal more when they are a bit distressed.”

Percival nodded his head in agreement. “And I thought that my shields were strong.”

“One of the best,” replied Newt. He stood up and stretched his arms. He looked out onto water, taking in the trees, the riverbank, the setting sun. “Is this where…?”

“Yes.” Percival stood up along with Newt and went to stand by him. He could feel warmth radiating off from the man. 

Percival wasn't sure what he was doing with Newt, the man that seemingly came out of nowhere and inserted himself into his life. His relationship with Mildred was so easy; the steps needed to taken and declarations uttered. The only word he could use to describe Newt was this: comfort. Newt gave him comfort, from his demanding job and expectations expected from the community, his family, and his friends. 

He also had the most amazing green eyes and one of the most intelligent minds Percival had ever met. He was kind and humble and thought of others, creatures,  _ everything _ before himself. Newt was here without being asked just to make sure that he wasn’t alone visiting his family home. 

But Newt was also hiding something. Percival didn’t get to where he gotten to not know when someone was hiding something from him. The way Newt would sometimes speak in half-truths or direct their conversation to another topic. How his eyes always glanced around, his back never to the door, his hesitancy to wave his wand. Newt was afraid of something that he was willing to cross an ocean for. 

“It’s beautiful here,” said Newt, his eyes searching for something on Percival’s face. “Don’t close yourself off, Percival. There are people who cares about you.”  

“I’m trying not to be,” admitted Percival. He brushed a strand of hair away before letting his hand rest on Newt’s cheek.  

“Try harder,” whispered Newt, his breath tickled Percival's skin.

Percival stepped closer and leaned his forehead against Newt’s. “Is this okay?” 

Newt nodded, his eyes closed and his breathing slowed down. 

His lips were tender and his skin had a hint of lavender, triggering a memory deep in the recess of Percival’s mind, struggling and trying to crawl to the surface. Newt sighed and leaned into the auror, his hands tugging on Percival’s coat and pulling him close. 

Newt’s hair was soft to touch and his skin flushed with red. Percival intertwined their hands and squeezed lightly, the ribbon on his wrist burned comfortably when it made contact with Newt. Percival paused, his breathing labored. Green eyes stared into his, desire rolling beneath his gaze, Newt’s lips were red and puffy and wet with use. Percival inhaled a shaky breath before leaning in again, this time with a bit more force, teeth clashing and tongues tangling.  

Newt was entitled to his secrets, such as Percival had secrets and history of his own, but Mary and Queenie was right. This felt right. This felt complete. It was time to be vulnerable again and open himself up to another and Newt, God forbid why, cared about him. Percival didn’t deserve Newt’s care, such as he didn’t deserve Mildred’s affections. He could almost hear her in the breeze as Newt’s lips tenderly left kisses down Percival’s neck as his hands began to wander under the many clothing with the desire to touch bare skin, the wind warm in its embrace of the two. 

Percival would deal with Mary’s warnings later. Right now, being here at this particular place with Newt, was all that mattered to Percival. 

Edward would be happy that his son was living a life outside of MACUSA. 


End file.
